My Friend, John
by Fiastata
Summary: Teenlock; John moves into a new school where he meets the lonely and mysterious Sherlock, who is constantly getting bullied by James Moriarty and is unrecognized by even his own brother. John vows to become his friend, even though James tells him that Sherlock is gay. Rated T for bad words and violence, and certain scenes. Johnlock and Mystrade, please read and review!
1. A Strange Boy

**A/N: So I recently just started watching Sherlock :'D it is AMAZING, especially since I read the book first too ^^**

**Anyway, I ship them so, so hard, and I have this friend Ander who also ships them as hard as I do, and she's the one who told me about Sherlock too. So we were watching this bullying presentation in our school, and Ander and I just go like 'OMG! What if-'**

**And so we made this :D R&R, hope you enjoy!**

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~John's POV~

It was a windy day that December morning. I pulled my jacket tighter around myself as I climbed into the motorcycle that I had gotten for my 16th birthday. Rearing up the engine, I checked my watch. School started at 8, I still had plenty of time. Swallowing the rest of my toast, I set my helmet on and went off to my new school.

Like any new student, the first days were the worst. I had recently moved here from Sussex, so I didn't know anyone. It was the start of the 2nd semester, so everyone probably already had their own groups and friends by now, which meant that I was probably going to be alone again. Oh well, I thought to myself, nothing that I'm not used to.

I slowed my motorcycle as I pulled up into the parking lot of the school, my dog chains rattling about my neck as I pulled my helmet off, taking in the enormity of the prestigious school. Only the top, most elite students were invited here, and through hard work and dedication I managed to gain a scholarship here, to London. I could feel everyone's eyes on me as I walked up the new school, hushed whispers filling my ears. I vaguely wondered what they saw when they looked at me. A short 16 year old boy, with a worn brown jacket over a tan wool sweater, jeans and shoes, with dirty blonde hair that fell over my tired green eyes.

I didn't care whether anyone judged me or not, this was no big deal, it was nothing like what my father had to go through in the war. He had to go through bullets, through strangers and armed men everywhere he turned. He had friends, surely, but they all died as he did, succumbing to disease. I didn't need any friends, they don't matter to me. They have their life, and I have mine.

And that's when my eyes fell on him. A tall but slender boy around my age was leaning against the wall of the school, his form hidden nearly by shadows. His dark curly hair fell over his eyes as he watched me intently, smoking a cigarette. I frowned disapprovingly. Smoking causes lung cancer, as well as all of the dangers of secondhand smoking to the students of this school. However, as I looked around, I noticed that very single student seemed to make a very large but subtle arch around him, not getting close, keeping their distance. I found this strange, until I looked back at the corner and realized that the strange boy was gone.

All very strange indeed, but I couldn't waste any time troubling myself over these thoughts. I adjusted my bag over my shoulder as I walked into the school, taking one last glance at the shadowed corner. The boy was there again, but without the cigarette this time. His hands were in his pockets, and his face seemed to be focused only on me. We made eye contact, and I froze in place. He winked before disappearing behind the wall again.

All very strange, indeed.


	2. A Mysterious New Subject

~Sherlock's POV~

I arrived at school at 7:00 am exactly. The weather was 2.7 degrees Celsius, with 10 km/hr wind speeds. I pulled my scarf closer as I leaned against my usual spot on the wall. I took a cigarette out of my pocket and lit it, the nicotine jump starting my brain in the early morning fog. I studied the students around me. Idiots, idiots, idiots, as far as the eye could see, nothing new. Bloody hell, I was bored. I closed my eyes, the drug giving my brain some work. Moriarty was to appear at 7:35 am, which meant that my cigarette should be about 25% finished at that point.

I studied the comings and goings of the buses. Bus 23 was 2 and a half minutes early, bus 17 was going to be 5 minutes late as it usually was because the bus driver's wife was ill and her husband almost never got to work on time, and would probably be fired either this week or next. I knew this for Jones, the bus driver, would often smell of medicines along with black coffee with a tablespoon of honey, and fingered his wedding ring constantly. I watched Mrs. DeWill pull up in her bright red Mercedes. Her husband hadn't come home last night again, as her worried facial features said, and she had forgotten to grade papers over the break, thus she was showing up 20 minutes earlier with a suitcase spilling over with papers, which were shoved there in the last minute. If she doesn't grade all of those papers before this afternoon, she may very well be fired from her job also. Which would break her heart, Sherlock continued, as her job was the only thing she had a passion for anymore.

But hullo, what's this, a boy riding a 2010 Triumph Bonneville motorcycle pulled up into the parking lot. I've never seen him before; I mused and puffed my cigarette interestedly. He pulled his helmet off and the breath left my lungs. 16 years old, 5'2'', moved here recently, doesn't get enough sleep, loves to type, had a relative in the Army who died, it must have been somebody important to him for he was wearing their dog tags. Probably his father's, although that's just an estimate. Came to the school on a scholarship, it appears. A brave fellow who greets challenges, often wears sweaters and adores strawberry jam. I stared at him for a few moments, feeling as if I were missing something. His eyes met mine and I stopped breathing for a few moments. His eyes fell on the cigarette and he frowned slightly. Ah, I medical man, I thought, and my heart began beating normally again. He must have come here for a medical degree, then.

"Hello, Sherlock," a voice sneered behind me. Oh damn, not now, I had finally found something interesting. Or rather, someone. "What do you want from me, James?" I said in my normal monotone voice. I felt his hand grasp my arm and pull me behind the wall. Now I can't see that interesting new fellow. I frowned into the face of James Moriarty, who snickered at me. "Found a new subject then, you freak?" He bashed my head against the wall. I felt the cigarette drop from my mouth and I reminded myself to keep my face impassive when with Moriarty. "Don't you have anything else to do other than pick on a freak like me?" I mused, blowing some smoke into his face. "Why so eager to get back, Holmes?" He laughed but released me. "I'll be back for you, faggot," he said before disappearing behind the school again.

I sighed, turning back to lean against the wall. The boy was entering the school. He looked back at me, and once again our eyes met. I saw him freeze. I don't know what came over me, but for the first time in my life, I smiled and winked before disappearing behind the wall to agonize over that completely unnecessary and embarrassing action.

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**A/N: Yes, I had to look up the Metric system for the weather . I would've made everything Metric to be more realistic, but I was worried I was going to confuse you guys ^^; in other words, it's cold in London ._. London in winter, you guys, freaking freezing.  
****I just love writing Sherlock's POV :D It's so interesting and awesome! ^^ Please let me know if I've gotten characterization right, I haven't gone to the episode where Moriarty appears yet so I'm kind of guessing with his :o Tell me if it's okay! Please review and thanks for reading! ^^ I'll try super hard to update this soon!**


	3. A Stranger's Justice

**A/N: I'm here again! ^^ Thank you guys so much for your reviews, considering this is my first Sherlock fanfiction I'm really excited and happy that you guys like this so much!**

**So through solid enthusiasm, I managed to write another chapter since I have some time ^^ Hope you guys enjoy!**

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~John's POV~

I managed to get my schedule for the year and find my way around the school in a matter of days. Turns out new students were somewhat rare in this school, so I have been quite popular these last 48 hours. There are lots of terrific girls here, all of which seemed to be interested in me! It was all rather exciting, but I couldn't be bothered with relationships at this moment. There was a lot I needed to study and catch up on if I wanted to make it another year in this school.

One thing that I noticed, however, was that I never saw that strange boy again. I looked around the cafeteria sometimes, and never saw him there. I didn't even know his name, so I couldn't ask anyone about him. Not that I could, even if I wanted to, for I had only gotten that short glimpse of him from far away, and it's not like I could describe him very accurately. I wasn't very sure why I was so kept up in trying to find that boy, but it was all very strange indeed.

One afternoon, however, everything changed. School had ended, and I had stayed behind to discuss the term paper with my teacher. On coming out of the school, however, I saw that boy standing, his back to me, leaning against the wall of the school with a cigarette casually in his mouth. No doubt, it was the same boy, not even his clothes were changed. I was about to call out to him when suddenly another boy with black hair, gelled back, appeared.

"I told you I'd be back," the boy with the gelled hair said. "I waited," the strange boy said monotonously. The boy with the gelled back hair smirked happily. "Oh, you waited for me Sherlock! How very nice of you, perhaps I shall give you a compensation for your wait?" With this, the boy pulled back his fist and punched 'Sherlock' in the stomach, causing the taller boy to double over, the cigarette falling from his lips. The boy yanked Sherlock up by his hair, forcing him to look up into his dark, amused eyes. "Will you give in to me today, I wonder?" the boy kicked Sherlock's chin with his knee hard, causing Sherlock to cry out in pain before falling limp to the ground. Sherlock glared up at the smiling boy, his eyes cold. "No, not today, I'm afraid," he said sarcastically. The boy laughed, kicking Sherlock again, and again, until he was curled up on the ground in pain.

I was frozen. I don't know why. Of course I had seen boys getting beat up by other boys before, but I usually just went along with the crowd and ignored their fight. I usually didn't step into the range of fire until the fight was over, and then I would tend to the wounded. So why did I feel the intense urge to step up for Sherlock, this strange boy whom I don't even know?

"Stop!" a voice yelled. I realized it was my own. I felt myself running towards them, glaring at the smiling boy. His smile widened. "Oh? What's this?" he cried. "A little hero of justice come to step up to the plate?" he laughed. My anger grew deeper. "Leave him alone," I said in my most commanding tone. He laughed. "No," he said simply. "Then I will make you!" I cried. I honestly don't know what was it about this boy that filled me with so much anger, that drove me to punch this stranger, but I did it. His head whipped from the force of my hit, before he turned back to me, smiling wider. I felt a shiver run up my spine for no apparent reason, but I held my footing. "I am only in the mood for hitting Holmes today, my pet," he said "so I think I'll let you go now if you leave." I glared at him. "No, I won't," I said. He pouted. "Such a pity," he turned, shoving his hands inside his coat pockets, and started to walk away. "You get off lucky this time, Sherlock," he called over his shoulder "but do bear in mind, it won't happen again." He turned a corner and was gone.


	4. A Potential Miracle

~Sherlock's POV~

I waited for Moriarty as usual behind the school. My cigarette was in its usual place in between my lips, and I had no doubt that this one would go to waste as he would be coming any moment. I closed my eyes, leaning my head back against the wall. Honestly, it was hopeless to run away from Moriarty. I was no coward, for one, he would only strike back harder tomorrow, two, and there was nothing to look forward to for the rest of my day. When I got home, I would hole myself up in my room again and test some unsolved theories, as well as scour the newspaper for any interesting news before making my own dinner at 7:30 and then entertaining myself with some acids I'm trying to create.

I heard footsteps coming toward me. I kept my eyes closed, trying to burn into my memory the tapping sound of his footsteps. So far, all I could deduce was that he was walking with no hurry, and with a purpose. "I told you I'd be back," a voice said. I opened my eyes, my steady blue one's meeting the excited dark ones of James'. "I waited," I said, taking a deep puff of my cigarette. I knew what was coming. James smiled happily. "Oh, you waited for me Sherlock! How very nice of you, perhaps I shall give you a compensation for your wait?" I closed my eyes and braced myself as he punched me straight in the gut. Pain exploded up my torso, and I spat out my flaming cigarette. His shoe was sure to put it out eventually, and if not, the smoke at least would provide me some solace from his beatings. I felt his hand yank my hair, forcing me to raise my head and look at him. I looked into his eyes steadily, my face a statue. "Will you give in to me today, I wonder?" he said amusedly. "No, not today, I'm afraid," I said with as little sarcasm I could muster. The corner of his mouth twitched; he had indeed noticed. I braced myself again as he thrusted his knee up to collide painfully with my chin, and I crumpled to the ground as he began to kick me. Last week, he said that he was going to kill me. I wondered vaguely, through my drugged and yet alert mind, whether this was to be our last fight.

"Stop!" I heard an unfamiliar voice cry. My eyes opened. Was someone here…was someone actually standing up for me…no, of course not, what was I saying. No one would stand up for me except for the principal, and that was only if… "Oh, what's this?" I heard Moriarty say. "A little hero of justice come to step up to the plate?" So the person was a male, and a short one. Judging by his voice he was around our age too… "Leave him alone," the voice said commandingly. I felt my heart skip a beat. It would be a miracle, if I did believe in miracles. But this voice was unfamiliar to me…I closed my eyes as my mind ran through all of the voices I had heard in this school. Everybody from the principals to the lowest janitors, every student I had heard at least a scrap of voice from. But none of them had this particular way of talking…with such immense bravery…passion…purpose. But before I could finish my train of thought, my eyes shot open at the sound of a punch. Who…was it the one who stood up for me? No…I tried to hold back a sneer as Moriarty said "I am only in the mood for hitting Holmes today, my pet" So Moriarty himself had taken the hit. Who on earth didn't know that man's reputation by this point…who, in this school, was around my age, unfamiliar to me, and unaware of how dangerous James Moriarty was? I felt a pair of hands grasp my shoulder and turn me until I was on my back. I looked up into his tired but concerned green eyes. Ah yes, my pulse quickened, this one.

"Are you alright?" he asked. Now that he was closer, I could study him more accurately. He owned no pets, had no mother, as far as I could tell, who lived with him, he had the fingertips of a typist and the calluses of a hard worker on his hands. He was poor, and he was rooming with an alcoholic. "Yes, I'm alright," I croaked, sitting up and straightening my scarf. My eyes scoured his. Concern, worry, alertness, and a brief flash of anger. So this man was on the side of justice. The boy cleared his throat, looking down at the ground. I must have been staring at them for too long. "I-I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't know your name," he said. I nodded. Of course this man knew my name, Moriarty mentioned it to him at least 4 times in the brief time they had talked. But remembering proper etiquette, I reached out my hand. "Sherlock Holmes," I said. He hesitated before shaking my hand awkwardly. "Er, John Watson," he said. _John, _my mind echoed. Fitting.

We stood up, I brushing off the dirt from my coat as he stood, studying me. "You are new here?" I said in an attempt to break the silence which I could tell bothered him. He nodded. "Just moved here from Sussex on—" "—a scholarship, yes, I know," I said without thinking, before I froze and looked up at John, whose eyebrows were raised in surprise. "How did you know that?" he said. I could hear no trace of contempt of anger in his voice, unlike the others I heard. I shrugged. "You came in the middle of the year, your bag was stuffed with books for a year or two's worth, unlike everyone else who already finished most of their projects during the break," I continued talking, my mouth rambling faster than my brain could. "You had a paper letter stuffed in between an advanced medical book, a paper letter of the type only goes to ones with an outstanding establishment of some sort, the medical book was far more advanced than the ones normal students read, so I presume a medical scholarship." I studied his face intently. His eyebrows were raised so high they were nearly lost in his messy blonde hair. I looked down. There goes another one, my mind began to say, another person who will shun and tell you to go piss o—"That's amazing," he murmured, and my head shot up to look at him in genuine surprise. He too, also seemed surprised. "I-I mean, you're right," he stammered. But I had heard what he had said before, and my mind locked onto that. Amazing…and I was right? Nobody had ever told me that I was right before…John cleared his throat again, shuffling the bag over his shoulder. "I had better get going," he said regretfully "I have to watch over my sister at home…" I nodded. "I understand," I said, my face and voice once again impassive. "It was nice meeting you, Sherlock," John said, and he turned to walk towards his motorcycle. Just before he got on, however, he stopped and turned back to look at me. "S-Say," he said, "where do you usually sit during lunch?" I blinked, confused why he should ask. "Over by that wall, under that tree," I said. He nodded, setting his helmet on. "I'll join you there tomorrow," he said, before rearing up his engine and speeding off.

My mind almost reeled. He would join me there…where I sat during lunch…almost like a…"Stop." I said out loud. "John," I looked down and began my long walk home. "is not, and never would be, my friend."

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**A/N: Hello! Longest chapter so far, I hope you enjoyed it! ^^ please review! It makes me update faster!**

**Like I said before, I just LOVE writing Sherlock's POV :)**


	5. A New Discovery

**A/N: I'm back! I'm sorry it took me so long to update! Writer's block + no time .**

**Anyway, thank you to everybody for following my story! As usual, reviews are greatly appreciated and make me write faster, I promise!**

**Note: Year 11= junior. I don't really know if the school systems work the same way as they do here in 'Murica, so I just googled it and stuff~**

**Oh, and a disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock**

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John's POV

The next week, I arrived at school earlier, in hopes of catching Sherlock at the front of the school again. Sure enough, by the time I pulled up at the parking lot, Sherlock was leaning by the wall again, smoking and watching me through the shadows. I smiled, walking over to him, and waved slightly. "Hello, Sherlock!" I said cheerfully, noting how his eyes lit up just a bit, seeing me. He glanced around, as if making sure I was talking to him. I smiled, leaning against the wall beside him. "Good morning," he said emotionlessly, but I noticed that he put down his cigarette as I came over.

"A bit chilly this morning, isn't it?" I said, trying to make conversation after a sort of silence came over us. He nodded, his dark curls falling into his eyes slightly. "Indeed, it is," he said, the chill in the air making his breath fog up in the dark sky. "10 degrees Celsius, 8 degree winds, quite a normal temperature for this time in the morning, especially since there is an approaching rain from the east." The words seemed to flow out of him naturally before he caught himself, his ice blue eyes glancing at me.

My mouth dropped open slightly in surprise before I grinned, pushing his arm slightly. "It's too early in the morning to be acting so brilliant," I said good-naturedly. He appeared to be slightly surprised, clearing his throat and smiling the smallest bit. "There's nothing particularly brilliant about it," he said nonchalantly, sliding his face a bit further into his scarf.

I smiled. "Everything's brilliant about it, I've never seen someone able to know the exact temperature of the day, nor the bloody wind for that matter!"

A silence overcame us again, and I thought about more things we could talk about. "What year are you in?" I asked him. "11," he said. "So am I!" I said, surprised. He was so tall; I thought that he was older. Oh well, it is rather hard to tell nowadays.

He checked his watch, a small line appearing between his eyebrows. "Expecting someone?" I asked him. "Should I leave?" He hesitated for a moment, appearing to think. "I think you should leave," he said, and my heart sank. Perhaps he did not want to be my friend as I had thought. "But only because I wouldn't want you getting into a fight this early in the semester." "Why do you say so?" I said, interested. He thought for a moment before speaking.

"Do you remember the boy you fought yesterday?" he asked me. "Well, every day at 7:25 exactly he comes and…gives me his standard greeting." He grimaced slightly. It was quite obvious what he was implying, and I bristled at the thought of Sherlock being hit again. "I'm staying, then" I said "and I'll fight him if that's what it takes for him to leave you alone." Sherlock sighed, looking down at the ground. "I wish it were that easy," he said quietly. "But that's not the way that Moriarty does things."

I opened my mouth to speak again before a sickly obnoxious voice came from around the corner wall from which we were leaning against. "Good morning Holmes," he said, turning the corner. His dark, malicious eyes lighted upon me. "Oh, you again," he smiled, sliding his hand out of his black blazer pocket to stick out to me. "I don't believe I had the pleasure of introducing myself," he said, his thin mouth curling up into a sneer-like smile. "Jim Moriarty, Year 11, it's a pleasure to properly meet you."

I didn't shake his hand. Eventually he cleared his throat, tucking his hand back into his pocket, that sinister sneer still pasted upon his face. "John Watson, is it?" he said. "My jaw still aches from time to time with the hit that you gave it." I glared at him. "Leave Sherlock alone," I said. Jim smiled wider. "Oh, straight to the point now, are we!" he cried, clasping his hands together. I simply glared back at him, my fists beginning to clench together.

Jim smiled. "It is rather profound that our little Holmes finally managed to sneak somebody onto his side, isn't it? Especially given with all of his…traits." "Sherlock is a brilliant bloke who doesn't deserve to be beat up daily by the likes of you!" I said, shoving my hands inside my pockets to try and prevent my punching his square in the eye. Jim sneered. "Surely you know what I mean, don't you?" I felt Sherlock stiffen beside me. Jim turned to Sherlock, surprise on his face. "Don't tell me you haven't told him yet!" I looked at Sherlock. "Tell me what?" Sherlock's face was stonier than usual, and he refused to meet my eyes.

Jim's smile grew until he laughed, clapping his hands in the silence that had fallen between us. "Oh, this is fantastic!" he cried. "Come on now then, Holmes," he sneered. "Now is as good of a time as any to tell him." Sherlock remained silent. He appeared to have even stopped breathing. "If you will not, then shall I?" Jim asked happily. Sherlock turned away, his dark hair and clothes blending in with the shadows of the wall we were standing against to create an effect of him not being there at all.

Jim sneered, turning back towards me. "It appears to me that our little Sherlock refuses to tell you himself," he said. "Tell me what?" I commanded. This was ridiculous. Obviously if Sherlock didn't want to tell me then I didn't have any business to know. "Oh trust me," Jim laughed. "You'll want to know this," he said. I started, unpleasantly surprised at how he had read my thoughts. "For you see, John, take these last few moments of ignorance. Cherish them, while Sherlock is still known to you as a friend. For the next few things I say will make you forget all about ever standing up for Sherlock ever again." "There is nothing that you can possibly say to that effect," I growled. He smiled at me, his dark eyes clashing against my green ones. "What about the fact that, Sherlock Holmes, your friend, undesired son to one of the most prestigious families in all of London, younger brother to one of the most high-rated and honored students in the school, outcast to every bloody student here from day one, has been hiding the true fact, that he, Sherlock Holmes, is a homosexual."


	6. A Stubborn Bug

Sherlock's POV

I listened as Moriarty made his unnecessarily dramatic speech of my orientation to John while thinking about what little time I had spent with him. John Watson…he indeed was a spectacular human being. Cheerful, energetic, smart of course, and appreciative. And he was also rather protective, more willing to heal than to fight, but almost always prepared to fight. He didn't have a temper, but he did enjoy fighting. Or maybe just excitement. Either way, I thought to myself as I turned away from John and Moriarty, anyone would be lucky to have him as a friend. I had known from the start that it would not be me. I was lucky enough to be able to spend more or less a day in the life of what it must feel like to be normal.

I turned my face away from them because I didn't think I'd be able to handle seeing the look on John's face when he heard the truth.

Not without laughing, of course.

"You think that makes any bloody difference to me?" John said. I couldn't help but feel the need to cherish the look of genuine surprise on Moriarty's face as John looked back at him, his hands in his pockets, his fists still clenched but his shoulders relaxed.

I had finally deduced this morning as we were talking that John was unbiased, and, being from Sussex, surely had been acquainted with homosexual individuals such as I. The part that had surprised me, when I found this out, was that he didn't care at all what your sexual orientation was. It so greatly relieved me that it was shocking, and I was glad that I was able to find this out before Moriarty did so that I would be able to cherish the look of pure shock on his face.

Moriarty managed to straighten his emotions out, and he fixed his hands back into his blazer pockets as he looked into my face. He wasn't smiling for once, and I couldn't help but hide my little sneer at the bewilderment in his eyes. "Well well, Holmes, looks like you've gotten a stubborn little bug on your side," he said. "But I'm not worried, of course. He'll be the only one." Moriarty smoothed down his hair as he turned back around the corner.

I waited until his footsteps faded away before looking at John for his response. He was glaring furiously at Moriarty's back. "How dare he think that he could grab me onto his side just because you're a different orientation than I! How could he think that my mind or loyalty could possibly be swayed…" At this point he turned back towards me, his green eyes hinted with a bit of doubt. "You didn't think…" I shrugged. "At first I did," I said. "But after this morning I had no doubt that you were unbiased and that my orientation would matter nothing to you." He nodded, his hands unclenching as he calmed down and smiled up at me. "That's very good," he said as the bell rang.

We walked into the school together. "Soon Sherlock," John said. "You won't ever have to worry about Jim. I'll continue being your friend, and show everybody, the school, your family, and Moriarty, just what I think of their uncalled-for segregation. I'll stand up for you Sherlock, and I'll be your friend."

I raised an eyebrow, his words touching somewhere inside me. "Could be dangerous," I said "Everybody might group you up in the same pile as me, and you might also be targeted by Moriarty and the school as well." John looked upwards at me and grinned. "Haven't I ever mentioned how much I adore danger and the sort?" I couldn't help but grin a bit at his statement. "No, but I deduced it,"

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**A/N: LOVE writing Sherlock's POV~**

**This part was really exciting to write about~ I was about to make it all touchy-feely with the feels and stuff, but decided to make it happier with Sherlock already knowing that John wasn't going to abandon him like the rest.**

**So, review!**


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